


Where I Lay My Head Is Home

by dr_zook



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Bittersweet, Gardening, Killing, M/M, domesticy, post Last Battle, post journey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_zook/pseuds/dr_zook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Last Battle: Gojyo wants to go home again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where I Lay My Head Is Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lauand](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lauand).



> Written for the prompt _bittersweet_.
> 
> Title borrowed from METALLICA. I hope they don't decide to sue me. D:

“So... what’s now?” Goku chews lazily some berries he plucks from the bush besides him. _What an insane coincidence_. His clothes are torn and smudged. The nyoi-bo is propped against the trunk he’s sitting on. He looks absurdly healthy, despite the dirt and blood streaks adorning his limbs.  
  
_Though the usual whine is weaker_ , Gojyo thinks. _Even the monkey sounds exhausted now._ No need to push his sorry hanyou self to any other limit within the next few hours.  
  
The fingers of his left scuttle over his thigh, aiming for the smokes in his pocket. He hopes they aren’t crumbled by now. The second-last blow of that monstrously boobed youkai chick had almost mangled his crown jewels. Thankfully he had slipped on some greasy entrails, so he only was to fall onto his scrawny butt to save both dick and probably entire lower body.  
  
After Sanzo had eventually used some mighty scary Buddhist moves, respectively spells, the priest had kind of fainted. His head is cushioned now on the remains of Goku’s cape; his breathing is steady and deep. In his sleep he doesn’t mind Goku’s proximity, whose left foot is shoved somewhere below the priest's back and shoulders. The monkey's other foot is folded under the left thigh. Gojyo has no idea how they ended up like this.  
  
The castle is down, also. From the corner of his eyes Gojyo can watch the smoke drifting around the ruins, dissolving into the woods around them.  
  
_Yeah, what’s now?_ Gojyo can’t give an exact answer. But he’s not expected to do so. He’s expected to be dumb and smoke. He’s good at that, actually. Hakkai, now _that’s_ the guy to ask these things.  
  
“We’ll recover, Goku,” his friend predictably tells monkey boy. His voice is deeper than usual and a bit raspy. He’s reclining against Gojyo's trunk, only some inches away from him. His vibrant chi aura is still fizzling and makes the tiny hairs of Gojyo’s arm shiver electrified.  
  
Gojyo grins and finally retrieves a cigarette from the pack. Shoves it with the right end into his mouth and ignites the other end. His movements are so slow, it feels like trudging through water. He’ll be damned if his fingers are actually shaking; it’s not the first time he’s been covered in blood and shit.  
  
The nicotine rushes though his veins and, yeah, he’s fucking happy. Not so long ago he wasn’t even sure, if he would ever be able to smoke, let alone breathe and now, here they are. Alive and breathing. All four of them. The journey is over. They don’t have to escort Sanzo’s bony ass farther across the continent anymore. If The Three Floaty Heads fancied another mission for their chosen hero there would be no reason at all for Gojyo to follow their call. Not this time.  
  
They could go home again.  
  
_Yeah, home_. Gojyo lets the taste of the word roll over his tongue, presses it against his palate. _Home_. His treacherous lips let it escape with the next exhale of smoke.  
  
“What did you say, Gojyo?” Even Hakkai’s too weak to turn his head to address him face to face. He keeps the back of his head pressed against the bark of the tree. Like the plant would stabilize him, pressed against his spine.  
  
“Nothin’,” Gojyo lies, and has to brace the elbow of the arm holding the smoke against his belly. Otherwise he couldn’t keep it up. Every fucking tendon in his body is aching and vibrating with pain and not at all fading tension. Tomorrow he would have the muscle ache of his fucking life.  
  
“I believe you said--” Hakkai insists. Because you can’t fool him. At least Gojyo can’t. And if he’s honest, he doesn’t want to.  
  
“I said _home_ ,” Gojyo specifies therefore. “After recovering we’ll go home. At least that’s what I want to. I don’t know what you guys are up to, but I can’t wait to be in my own sucky house again.” He knows he sounds defiant. After the last fight, his emotions are still too raw. Hakkai almost got... _no, don’t get there, masochist boy._ Speaking of scary moves.  
  
“But the monastery’s food is so boring,” Goku huffs from across the debris between his trunk and the tree behind Hakkai and Gojyo. “I liked the different stuff on the road better.”  
  
Sanzo mumbles something in his half-sleep. It could sound like, “Fucking gourmet now, or what?”  
  
Gojyo chuckles and instantly regrets: his midriff is already hurting like a bitch. He takes a last drag and carefully snuffs the cig on the ground besides his hip. “You still have to travel back, chimp. Take another route home to be sure to eat different food this time.” He feels a soft sting somewhere around his heart. Of course, Chang-An was Goku’s home. It would be absurd to assume something different. Because it was Sanzo’s home.

Things could be sickeningly easy, sometimes.  
  
And his own shitty house, the one he left was _his_ home, wasn’t it? Because... yeah, because why exactly? Despite what he said before it wasn’t that plain, a bit run-down assortment of bricks and roof, which made him look forward to the place he had left behind years ago.  
  
When he thinks about it, tries to put himself back into that setting, there would always be some tasty food bubbling on the stove. Fresh linen spread across his bed. Sun slanting through clean windows. Hakkai measuring green leaves into his tea pot, patiently waiting for the boiling water to cool down for five minutes exactly.

Patiently waiting for Gojyo to return from roaming.  
  
Gojyo swallows. Hakkai isn’t on the run anymore. He has a new name, a new life. He could go now anywhere. He absolutely should. Gojyo doesn’t know, if plain detergent was enough to make linen that crispy white. Or which spices exactly Hakkai uses to make his favourite curry.  
  
He should ask him before Hakkai would leave him.   
  
Maybe he’d head back east with them, he could ask him then. He really should benefit from the time they would have left together. He has to concede the staleness of their victory now. He’s never been very good in starting things new. He should be more happy.  
  
Gojyo swallows again. And again. He feels some idiotic constriction of his throat, like the ache settling down on his body now decided to crawl further up. Fogging his vision and making his head spin.  
  
“I’d like to plan some kitchen garden, Gojyo. What do you think?” Hakkai’s voice trickles into his ear. And he really can’t help the fat tears rolling out of his eyes.


End file.
